Symphony
by MysticShadowWanderer
Summary: The question was one that was rather unostentatious, quite straightforward: Was it the music in itself that brought such a change over her, heightened her senses and took her to a new plane of realization, or was it the musician?" [KK][AU]
1. Prelude in Longing

**Symphony**

MysticShadowWanderer  
  
Disclaimer: If I owned Rurouni Kenshin, I'd be... Well, I don't know what I'd be doing, but I'd be doing it in Bora Bora.

* * *

_Prelude in Longing_  
  
She could lose herself in this, it called to her so strongly. Closing her eyes, she leaned back into the cushions of her couch and just listened. The beauty of it wrapped itself around her until she could no longer remember where she was, what she was supposed to be doing, or even her own name. It didn't matter that she couldn't find the source, all she needed was the magic that it worked on her soul. And it was so very soothing, so powerfully moving, so... right. The feeling was indescribable, but all she knew was that this was where she was meant to be.  
  
A few tears rolled down her face at the majesty and softly compelling urgency. She didn't know what she needed, what it wanted to say to her, but she knew she needed it. Needed it with every piece of her being. Needed to be immersed in it, to be surrounded in the gentle embrace of all this latent energy. So much was being withheld, from her, from the world. What was this that she wanted?  
  
It was pure perfection, and she could almost feel it, taste it. In that moment it was everything, and she knew nothing more. There was nothing more. The only thing that existed was the gentle caress of what was carried to her, faintly but as clear as her own heartbeat, by the opened door.  
  
By the time it reached its finale, she was bathed in the saline of her own tears. But it was not a shameful thing, this longing. If only she knew what it were, how to sate this desire. Her eyes opened slowly, the sapphire which was generally clear and lucid now hazy and clouded with emotion. Confusion replaced the ache that slowly seeped out of her body as the memory faded away. Desperately she clutched at it, but was unable to hold it. A heavy sigh escaped her as her head dropped forward, her chin resting on her chest. It was but a fleeting thing, and nothing could stay. And she knew that she must find this artist, the one who could make her soul cry out, if only she could find this person.  
  
If only it could be done...

* * *

Symphony: An elaborate musical composition for full orchestra, typically in four movements. But so much more than that, Kaoru now knew. Joy, sorrow, longing, those were the components of a true symphony, of a work of art that could tear a heart to pieces only to pick them up and arrange them in the shape of the stars later. For just a brief moment was all she asked. Just a brief moment of memory, for her soul to be able to carry just a few of those splendorous notes with her. Her mind, though, could not retain the wonder and pain that the music had brought her. And that longing... such an incredible feeling. Never in her life had she wanted anything like she'd wanted at that moment. Yet... she hadn't known what it was that she wanted. She just felt the stinging anguish of emptiness, and had known that the emptiness demanded to be filled.  
  
She sighed again, running a hand through her hair and letting a few more tears drop. The diaphanous curtains that hung by the wide-flung doors with the crystalline glass panes lifted with the breeze that swept into the room. Kaoru shivered slightly and rose to shut the doors, which she'd left open when she came in from the balcony of her apartment. Wrapping her arms around herself on the pretense of chill but in actuality for comfort, she indulged herself in another sigh and leaned her head against the glass.  
  
To know whom it was that could produce such music! She could picture the pianist's hands, strong, quick, slender, and firm as they applied gentle and exact pressure to the keys as they evoked the precise melody that they wanted, demanding perfection from each note. The nimble foot of the artist, which entreated the pedal to blend the melody ever so accurately, so cleanly. Whether female or male mattered not, she knew she had to find this skilled musician, to plead with them so that they might grace her with an encore of the phantasm that she had just witnessed. Nothing could be so perfect as that music, nothing could be so painfully beautiful.  
  
How could it be that something so simple could become something so intricate? Something as elemental as tapping on keys and vibrating strings could take over her heart and shape her into someone she wasn't just ten minutes before. Talent and years of practice, she knew, could turn a human being into an instrument as much as the piano that they sat before. But to give them such power? Was it possible?  
  
The question was one that was rather unostentatious, quite straightforward: Was it the music in itself that brought such a change over her, heightened her senses and took her to a new plane of realization, or was it the musician?

* * *

A/N: A break from my other fics is what I suppose this is. Simply a short little ficlet (aw, isn't that a cute word?) to let me redirect myself and focus better. Besides, I've been dying to use this idea for quite some time, but until now I hadn't been able to put it into words. Some of you may know that I'm a pianist, and I happen to have a bit of, well... an obsession. That's right, my friends, if I don't play for at least two hours a day, I generally feel unfulfilled. I can't remember a time when I didn't love piano music, except for possibly the time that I was suffering through lessons and being forced to play the utter crap that they had me playing (and when a seven-year-old doesn't want to do something, they despise it). I gave that up and have been much happier being self-taught (which isn't for everyone, might I add). But... I digress. This fic came about from my utter love of classical piano music. It has an extremely powerful effect on me, and I wanted to bring that out. Plus, this is a good excuse to blast my Mozart CDs at all hours of the day. It goes something like this:  
  
"KAITIE, TURN THAT DOWN! YOU'RE SCARING THE NEIGHBORS' CHILDREN!"  
"SHUT UP, MOM, I'M IN A CREATIVE PROCESS!"  
  
Anyhow, here's something you might want to know... I don't expect for anyone to completely understand what's going on, my dear readers. I hope to develop that more fully in the next chapter. (I was HOPING that I could do a prologue and then only four long chapters, as in the four movements of a symphony, but who knows about that...) Just stay with me, if you would, and try to follow as best you can. That aside, this A/N is WAY too long, and I'm going to shut up now. Hope you enjoyed the beginning of my newest project!


	2. First Movement

**Symphony**

MysticShadowWanderer  
  
Disclaimer: There once was an elevator necromancer named Duane E. Scott...

* * *

_First Movement

* * *

_Day by day, she listened for the music, that exquisite flawlessness. And day by day she sank deeper into depression as she heard nothing but the hum of the people and the hiss of the cold, cruel city streets. If she could not find the pianist, what then would she do? Sink away into nothing, never knowing what it was in her that demanded answers? She hoped that would not be the case.  
  
Even her dreams were taunting her now, tantalizing her with all too evanescing pieces of just single chords, but giving her nothing substantial to hold fast to. Then there were the strange images, the blurred faces and figures, always dancing in silence. There was no music to this scene, but her heart told her that there should be. Colors blurred together as dancers twirled and wove between each other, always synchronized, as if each knew exactly where to be and when they were to be there. The dance was nothing short of amazing, but in some way, this dream was torture, a nightly crucifixion that she could not understand. Each morning now she woke in tears, not knowing for whom or what they were cried.  
  
It could not go on like this forever. She had to know what she had heard, whose hands had pieced together such a blow to her heart. Each day she awoke with the hope that perhaps this day would be the day that she would find the musician. And each day she went to bed, tired and mentally beaten, knowing that she was one day closer to falling apart.  
  
Obsession was unhealthy, she knew that well. How could she, a psychology major, not? But where was the fine line between a desire to find someone and becoming all-consumed by that desire until it was all that she thought of. Was it when she couldn't sleep at night? Or was it when her days seemed longer? She didn't know. She didn't want to know. So long as she ignored the problem, she wouldn't have to see past what was staring her in the face: she was making herself sick.  
  
Some days, she decided not to go to school or work. She would call in sick at the office where she interned, and not show up for her classes that day. It was alright, she told herself, as long as it was only once in a while. Instead of handling her responsibilities, or at least getting some extra studying in, she would go out. But only to one of two places. Her entire day would be spent in either the Barnes and Noble down the block, where she would always treat herself to a new classical CD, or the piano store across town.  
  
The piano store was her favorite place to be, despite the fact that she couldn't even pick out a melody with the index finger of her right hand. It was a wonderful, cozy little shop that was family owned, and the people were wonderfully polite; it was always so very busy, with piano students coming in and out and the like. She spent hours at a time, just sitting on a bench in the corner, her silver, wireframe glasses perched sharply at the end of her nose as she listened, her legs crossed and her chin rested in her palm. To any observer, she seemed perfectly normal. The people that stopped in regularly, either to visit with the owners or to play, would always favor her with a warm smile, and she would return the gesture with a polite nod. No one would have seen her nearly insane fixation, though it lurked just beneath the surface. To them, she was just the sweet girl that sat in the corner, dressed all in stylish black, who loved to listen to music. There was nothing wrong with that. It was nice to have someone to play for, they thought. How wonderful that she appreciated the music that they'd dedicated themselves to.  
  
But dedication was so much different from her obsession. Never did she spend a moment not listening to some classical piece or another. She had never been a fan of classical music before, preferring music with lyrics and finding the nuances and intricacies of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth century's composers to be too boring, too alike. But now she could distinguish Mozart from Beethoven, Tchaikovsky from Handel, Bach from Chopin, and each from each other. She didn't understand what made each one different, didn't know pianissimo from fortissimo, staccato from legato, or a glissando from a crescendo, but she knew that they were different, just as she knew that night was different from day.  
  
This newfound knowledge would have been a positive thing, an opening to another level of culture, had it not been for the desire that drove the interest. Sometimes she thought that if she didn't find her pianist that she would go crazy. Though she didn't know how to go about finding this person, she was sure that she could. To her, it was as if she were searching for a book on a library shelf; it was no great task. But in reality, the shelf was twenty feet tall and spanned a hundred feet, and she didn't know the title or author of the text she was looking for; it was an impossibility.  
  
There was no name to attach to the musician, and not even the name of the piece so that she might find someone who could tell her just who it was that had mastered it. If ever there was such a thing as an unattainable goal, this was it. She had set her sights on the stars, and didn't realize that she could fall and never be caught as she drifted off into space.  
  
But she knew, as well as she knew her own name, that she would be able to find this person. It occurred to her that she might hear other people playing the same song, but she just knew that when she heard the 'one' that she would know it. She would be able to tell the difference. If it took days or weeks or even months, she was determined to find her pianist. If not, she would likely kill herself before she went insane. As a psychology major, she knew what it was like in psychiatric hospitals, and she would rather be dead than be in one. There were so many locks, so many guards, so many things that would make her lose whatever sanity she might have salvaged.  
  
Chewing thoughtfully on her black fountain pen, though she knew she shouldn't leave bite marks on such an expensive writing utensil, she stared almost blankly out over the city. Her books and notes lay scattered and forgotten over the small table that she sat at, and she set the pen down to rise and stand at the railing of the balcony, resting her weight on her hands as she leaned out to look over the edge. It was so far down... What if she were just to jump? She shook her head slightly; where had that thought come from? It was atypical of her to think such morbid things, but every so often now, she would recognize death when she stared it in the face, and she would have to force herself to think of something different. It was almost disturbing.  
  
"That music..." she sighed. "Where could it have come from?"  
  
If she didn't find it again, she didn't know what she would do.

* * *

It was a beautiful Saturday, with the breeze blowing at the hair that was loose around her face and the sun warming her shoulders genially. She smiled to herself, for the moment content to just be walking down the street, one headphone perched in her right ear and quietly sending Mozart's "Turkish Rondo" to her brain to sweeten her steps. Today she'd decided that it was too nice to sit in the piano store all day, and she was going to the park, her sketchbook and Prismacolor pencils under her arm. Studying could be procrastinated, and she hummed as she walked, pleased with her decision.  
  
Just as she was turning the corner, only at the corner of her apartment complex, she froze, causing the man behind her to bump into her and spill an overpriced cup of Starbucks' coffee down his overpriced silk shirt. Entranced, she didn't hear him as he swore loudly at her. That was it! That was the song, and it was coming to her clearly. Her eyes scanned the windows of the apartment building across from hers, but she couldn't see anyone playing. That was where it was coming from, though! All this time and the object of her obsessive search had been so nearby.  
  
Still clutching her sketches and pencils, she rushed across the street, not noticing that she was nearly stuck by a speeding car, and pushed open the lobby door to the building with her free hand. One of the rooms, she thought, but which one? Her heart in her throat and pounding wildly, she scrambled up the stairs, intent on loping down each floor until she found the apartment from which that beautiful music was drifting. When she made it to the eleventh floor, her efforts were repaid.  
  
Skidding to a halt, she stood outside the door, unsure to do now that she was within reach of her pianist. Though she'd been so intent on finding the person, now that she was close to doing so, she didn't know what she would actually say. As the song ended, she gathered her courage, and rapped lightly on the door.  
  
A few moments of tense waiting, and she heard the shuffling of a piano bench, and then light footsteps. She held her breath as the knob turned and the door slowly opened. Her eyes went wide as she stared, if somewhat dumbly, at the man who stood before her. Beautiful was the only way he could have been described, even though he was a man. He stared back at her unassumingly, his violet eyes serene yet curious. Kaoru had to fight the urge to reach out and run her fingers through his hair, a deep red waterfall that cascaded down his back. A cross-shaped scar marred his left cheek, but she paid it fleeting notice as her gaze unconsciously traveled down to his hands. These were the hands of a true artist; his fingers were slender and long, strong-looking. They were gorgeous hands.  
  
"May I help you, miss?" he said quietly, his voice not so high but not so low.  
  
Suddenly realizing exactly what she'd been doing, Kaoru blushed deeply and averted her eyes. Had she still been looking at him, she would have noticed immediately the soft smile that lit his features.  
  
"Oh... I-I'm sorry," she stammered. "I just... I heard the music, and I... Was that you playing?"  
  
Glancing up, this time she witness the smile that spread across his face, and he nodded. Did it seem odd to him? she wondered. Here she was, a complete stranger, standing in his doorway and asking if it was he that was playing the piano.  
  
"It was beautiful..." she murmured, unable to help herself. "Please, sir, please... could you play it again?"  
  
Though he looked as though he were taken slightly aback, he nodded again, and then opened the door a bit more, stepping aside so that she could come in. Bowing hastily, she accepted his silent offer and allowed herself to be led inside. Part of her marveled at the beautiful interior of his apartment, the rich wood flooring and the lovely paintings that adorned the walls, but most of her focus was on the piano that sat in the corner. It was obviously meant to be the centerpiece of the room, despite its offset position, and she thought that perhaps she had never seen a more beautiful instrument in her life. It was a magnificent grand piano, black, sleek, and so shiny that she thought she might see her reflection in it if she dared step so close. Though she desperately wanted to peer into it as he played, to wonder at the magic of the hammers hitting the strings with precision, she sank carefully onto the floor a safe distance from it.  
  
Without a word, the man sat at the leather-cushioned bench and poised his fingers over the keys. His eyes closed briefly, and he appeared to be deep in thought. After a moment, he reopened them and began to play. The song started slowly and built in intensity. Kaoru closed her own eyes, trying to withhold her tears at the melancholy that he elicited from the composition and at the sheer beauty of the experience. This piece was unfamiliar to her, she realized, but that ceased to matter as the volume increased and she failed to control her tears.  
  
She cried silently as he worked his fingers over the keys. Though she'd thought that she would savor this moment by watching every move the pianist made, she found herself unable to do so, and was forced to remain with her eyes shut as the music swelled around her in a sea of misery and delight. The dancers of her dreams swirled before her eyes, moving in perfect time with the music that was tearing at her soul.  
  
As his fingers slowed and the piece ended, Kaoru sat completely still, scarcely moving but to breathe. Unwillingly, she pulled herself from her tortured enchantment, and she opened her eyes that glistened still with unshed tears. The man at the bench was openly staring at her, quiet shock reading in his intense eyes.  
  
"Are you alright?" he asked softly. He'd never seen anyone so affected by his playing.  
  
"Yes, I'm fine," she replied, wiping her eyes dry in embarrassment. Her cheeks were tinted pink; how could she have cried in front of a stranger like that? Suddenly it hit her. He was still a stranger. He had invited her in, played for her, and she didn't even know his name. "I'm so sorry," she said quickly.  
  
He tilted his head to the side inquiringly. Confusion wrote itself across his face before realization dawned on him. Her name, he didn't know her name. Smiling again, he reached out a hand to where she sat.  
  
"Himura Kenshin," he said politely. "And you are?"  
  
"Kamiya Kaoru. Himura-san, I am so very sorry! I don't know-"  
  
"No, it's alright," he interrupted her firmly and kindly. "I see that it was important to you." As he said the words, he noticed the sketchbook at her side. "You're an artist?"  
  
Kaoru nodded and shook her head at the same time. "Not like you are, Himura-san. I just sketch things."  
  
"May I see?" he asked. "I happen to be quite fond of art." He gestured at the paintings scattered about his apartment walls.  
  
She nodded again and he picked up the sketchbook, flipping through the pages and stopping to study the ones that interested him more. Kaoru remained on the floor, staring at her hands as she twisted them nervously in her lap. One certain picture seemed to fascinate Kenshin more than the rest. He stared at it for some time before he looked up at her.  
  
"When did you draw this?" he asked gently, holding the book out so that she might see which drawing it was that he was looking at. It was the one that captured the images of her dream's dancers.  
  
"Just the other day," Kaoru answered, unsure of why she was so anxious. Usually she was happy to show off her work, but something about the way he was examining this one set her on edge.  
  
"What's the inspiration, may I ask?"  
  
"Oh... just a dream I've been having," she replied, the response noncommittal.  
  
"I see..."  
  
"Himura-san..."  
  
"Kenshin, if you please."  
  
"Kenshin, what piece is it that you played?" she asked earnestly, steering the conversation back to what she truly wanted to discuss.  
  
"Something I wrote," he responded. "I haven't titled it yet."  
  
"It's beautiful," Kaoru said. "Absolutely beautiful. Thank you for playing for me."  
  
Kenshin rose to help her to her feet, then handed her the sketchbook that he still held. She closed it carefully and bowed slightly to him.  
  
"If you would be so kind, I would love to hear you play again someday," she said quietly, embarrassed to be practically inviting herself to his apartment again.  
  
Understanding what caused her anxiety, he smiled kindly to alleviate her fears, and nodded. "Please, come any time of the afternoon," he said. "It would be nice to have an audience. Do you play?"  
  
She shook her head furiously, a wistful look falling on her face.  
  
"Would you like to learn?"  
  
"Oh yes," she replied without hesitation. "I would love that more than anything."  
  
"I would be honored to teach you," he offered politely. "If you wished, you could come by every Saturday afternoon at two, and I could give you a lesson."  
  
Kaoru blinked in amazement, this was more than she could have possibly expected. "That would be wonderful," she said quietly. "Thank you so much."  
  
Kenshin smiled warmly and walked her to the door, waving slightly as she made her way down the hall. When she'd reached the stairway, he shut the door and went over to the window to look out at the busy street and take a minute to think. She had fascinated him the moment he laid eyes on her. Something about Kamiya Kaoru was very different, and the way she'd been affected by his music attested to that. And the drawing... those dancers... How was it that the image she'd drawn from her dream was the same that he'd seen before his sleeping eyes for years, the same that had inspired his piano composition?

* * *

A/N: Oo! Plot twist! I'm really enjoying writing this. Can't you see Kenshin as a pianist? It works, I swear... I don't know why. Maybe because he has the hands for it :smiles dreamily: Plus, I think it takes a lot of emotion, especially sorrow, to be able to get a piano to really sing, and Kenshin has that, even if he keeps it bottled up. Two years ago, at a talent show I performed in, I heard two pianists. One was a girl that played an INCREDIBLY complicated Beethoven piece. Despite the fact that I utterly despise this girl, she was amazingly talented, and the music was beautiful. But it had no soul. Then a boy played a piece that he wrote entitled "Distance." It was simplistic, but it almost brought me to tears. It was so heartfelt and melancholy that you could almost feel the emotions that he put into not only writing but playing it. That's what's piano's about. That's what I think Kenshin has. Of course, since it's anime, I'm never going to actually get to hear him play, but life sucks sometimes, doesn't it? I'll live... Anyways, this chapter seemed fairly self-explanatory... I think I'm actually going to take my time on this one and let it really develop. There's opportunity here for a lot of deep meaning and some beautiful stuff to happen. Here's hoping! For now, I hope you enjoyed the First Movement (what am I going to do when I run out of movements??), and I'll be seeing you next time. Ja ne!


	3. Second Movement

**Symphony**

MysticShadowWanderer  
  
Disclaimer: And one day, Duane E. Scott, the elevator necromancer, said to the nation of the elevator-people that he would be the greatest elevator necromancer in all the land...

* * *

Second Movement

* * *

"Good afternoon, Kamiya-san!" the wizened little man greeted her happily as she stepped through the door of the piano shop. "It is very nice to see you again."  
  
"And you Tanaka-san," she replied with a smile.  
  
"Are you here to listen this afternoon?" he asked as his wrinkled old hands ran a soft, white cloth over the smooth finish of a baby grand piano to make it shine.  
  
"No, sir," she said, much to the surprise of the man. "I was thinking that maybe today... maybe I might buy a piano."  
  
His bespectacled eyes widened, before he scurried to set his cloth down and return to Kaoru's side. He took one of Kaoru's hands in both of his in the way that only a kindly old man could and began to question her in earnest. She smiled brightly as she answered his inquiries as to the size of the room, the doorways through which the piano would have to be maneuvered, and the style of piano that she wanted.  
  
"It's a very large room," she said softly, biting her lip as she considered. "But the door is not very large. I would dearly love to own a grand piano, or even a baby grand, but I doubt we could get one in my apartment and I am still a college student, after all. A piano is expensive."  
  
"Ah yes, Kamiya-san, you are right." Tanaka nodded sagely. "You should look at all that we have here on the floor and see what might suit you best. Please take your time, a decision like this should not be made in haste."  
  
Kaoru nodded her thanks and began to slowly walk about the store, occasionally running a hand lovingly over the ivory keys of a particularly attractive instrument. She looked wistfully at the showy grand piano in the corner, but forced herself to turn her attention to the ones that were more in her price range. She would have to stretch herself thin to afford this in the first place, but she was sure she could do it. And she wanted to have a real piano to practice on, not just a keyboard. She wanted, needed, that full, rich tone that could only come from a strings encased in carefully fitted wood.  
  
Finally, after much deliberation, she settled on a cherry-finished piano that wasn't overly small nor overly large. It would fit nicely in the corner of her apartment, and it was attractive. The price made her cringe slightly, just over three thousand dollars was going to keep her living frugally for a while, likely even after it was paid off, but she didn't mind so much. For the first few years after her father's death, she'd had to live in a shabby, rundown apartment, and next to the life she'd lived before she got her internship, cutting back on some of her expenses was meaningless. She was still a good two steps above her former living situation.  
  
With a smile and some new papers, she left the store and headed for home, where her books were waiting for her. Tomorrow was Wednesday, and that meant a full day of classes.

* * *

Kenshin tapped his finger thoughtfully against his lower lip as he sat on the hardwood floor of his apartment, bracing himself with one hand as he stared out over the city through the floor to ceiling window that his piano sat in front of. He wondered about many things, his mind racing as he leaned back and settled to lie on the floor with his arms behind his head. The blood that constantly stained his hands was always prominent in his thoughts, but today it had taken second chair to one Kamiya Kaoru. His face twisted in a frown, and he questioned himself harshly.  
  
Who was she? Why had he allowed her to simply come into his home before he even asked her name? It was unlike him to be so unguarded. But he knew from the instant she studied his hands that she was different. She wasn't like the rest of the world, who focused so quickly on the scar that marred his face. Unconsciously, he shifted to allow his fingers to trail down that mark, his hand cupping his cheek. It wasn't that he was self-conscious about the imperfection, it was that other people were. It was a reminder of unpleasant times, yes, but didn't people realize that if you block out bad memories they only return to haunt you? Didn't they understand that if he didn't have that reminder, he wouldn't be all of himself? And didn't they see that by treating it as if it weren't there that they refused to accept all of him? He didn't want people asking about how he got the marks, because it was a story that he wouldn't, couldn't, tell for several reasons, but he'd rather that they ask and be disappointed when he wouldn't divulge the information than treat him as if they didn't see it. Because they did. He and they always knew that they did, yet it was as if there were some unspoken law about strange scars like that.  
  
Discontented by his own train of thought, he sighed and jumped easily to his feet in a martial arts move that was so ingrained in his nature that it didn't seem unusual to him. Thinking like that only made him unhappy, he knew, unhappy with who he was in the past, who he couldn't forget. The only cure for that unhappiness was his piano, something he could throw himself into wholly so that he could forget that the world existed, so that there was no past, no future, just here and now and the music that surrounded him.  
  
He seated himself at the piano and, taking care to avoid looking at his hands, tapped at the keys for a moment, his fingers tinkering out a few short melodies to stretch his hands and exercise them to play seriously. Eyes closed, he ran his fingers over the keyboard and found the exact spot, right where he wanted them. He didn't want to see his hands, didn't need to see them. It would ruin the piece if he saw, looked down at them to find them dripping crimson onto the ivory perfection of the keys again. How he hated to scrub the keys clean.  
  
Perfectly relaxed and with his eyes closed, he began to play. Bach's Toccata and Fugue in D Minor. And it was beauty, pure joy wrapped in the pretense of misery, and all underneath his fingertips. Here, at the piano, he was God, and he was all that there was. This was his to command, and this was rightful. Now it was safe, now he could see his hands; the crimson was gone and he could admire the speed and precision of his own hands that looked like someone else's.

* * *

Kaoru smiled as she sat on her balcony and scribbled idly along the edges of her psychology book in pencil. She could get back to her studying in a moment. Her eyes closed as she listened, she could hear the music as clearly as if it were being played in her own apartment. That was him, her new teacher and paragon. Was it right to apotheosize him in such a manner? The thought passed her by in a brief moment of dissension. No; he was godlike, in his own way. Wasn't everyone? She didn't know, but now wasn't the time to think of it.  
  
"Toccata..." she breathed. "Beautiful."  
  
It was darkness and it was light, and she saw nothing but color and emotion. It was sad, but she smiled through misery. When he played... it wasn't the same as when someone else played. When Kenshin played it was as if the world stood still for him, as if no one else had ever played before and no one else would ever play again. And she knew it was different, from the moment she'd first heard him play, she'd known. He could bring those eighty eight strings and hammers to life, make them tremble and cry or jump and laugh. As the song ended on a thundering note that sang of despair and loss, she jumped to her feet.  
  
Just to glimpse him, to see him as he sat at the piano, was all she asked. Now that she knew where his apartment was, it was amazing to her that she hadn't seen the instrument before. It was in plain sight, sitting before a huge window. She leaned over the rail slightly and rested her elbow on the cold metal, setting her chin in her palm. Though his figure was slightly blurred through the pollution of the air and the transparency of the window, she could see him there, unmoving as he sat. His hands were still over the keys, and she knew that his eyes were closed. Something about the way he was, statue-still, made everything stop. And she could see those dancers again, and she could see him in black and white, ruffles and silk, one hand in the air and one foot forward, as if frozen in the middle of a dance step, so still that it was almost unnatural. And it was right, and it was meant to be. And then it was shattered.  
  
Kenshin glanced up and their gazes locked. It was as if she were standing right in front of him, instead of in a separate apartment across the street. Their faces were stoic, reading each other. The feeling was too eerie and she shook herself, smiling and waving slightly and then shoving away from the railing and sitting back at her table to pretend to study.

* * *

Kenshin turned back to his piano quickly, staring down at his hands, which trickled crimson onto the white of the keys. He swore softly to himself and jerked his hands away before they ruined his piano. With a sigh, he ran his fingers through his bangs. That had been a strange moment.  
  
He had finished his piece, and sat with his eyes closed as he usually did. And as he had sat there, time stood still, and he could see the dancers that plagued his dreams, and he could see her in dark blue and white, silk and lace, her hands at the skirt of her elegant dress as she gave an elaborate curtsey, as though she were fixed in an intricate dance. And it had felt so right that it was impossible. But it seemed meant to be. And then it had fallen to pieces.  
  
He had felt her eyes on him and looked up. It had felt like she were right there with him, standing in front of his piano bench instead of high above him and a city street away. He had tried to read her, just as she'd tried to read him. And then she had smiled and waved shakily, as if she were trying to fool both him and herself. But she hadn't. And he hadn't even been able to wave back, his gaze had fallen on his hands in desperation.  
  
Another curse left his mouth as he stared at the piano from where he sat with his bench pushed away. He'd looked, he'd ruined it all. Now he had to clean up the blood before his piano stopped working. It had happened before. The first time he looked, it had happened.  
  
He'd let the blood drip all over the keys, unaware of what was happening, and he'd failed to clean it up. And then, when he sat down to play again the next day, his piano just wouldn't play. His fingers had fumbled over the keys and the sound had been unartistic. He'd had to buy a new piano, because that one was stained with his own ugliness. And he'd cried. No one knew, but he'd cried. He'd cried for his ruined piano, for the reasons his hands had been stained, and for innocence, but never for himself. He never cried for himself.  
  
Mumbling and swearing, he went to the kitchen to retrieve a bucket of mild, soapy water and a toothbrush from under the sink. There was a chamois cloth in the third drawer on the left, he reminded himself. And with trembling hands that were covered with thick rubber gloves, he began to lovingly, carefully clean the keys of his stained piano, tears streaming unnoticed down his face.

* * *

A/N: Does that strike anyone else as extremely heart-wrenchingly sad? I don't know why that ending affected me like it did... Weird... Anyhow, there's a lot of confusing things in this chapter. Some parts are less confusing than others, but I have to say that the entire thing came out being quite strange. But I said what I wanted to, and finally got some good, solid angst in there. Ok, maybe it's not so solid, but it's good. And I really like how this came out, so I'm not going to mess with it. It's supposed to be confusing, so don't worry about it. Hm... that's sad... I think I'm going to go cry and think about that for a while...  
  
On a side note... I really like showing this gentle, softer side to Kenshin. He's so vulnerable! It makes him so cute that I just want to squeeze him until he can't breathe to "oro."


	4. Third Movement

**Symphony **

MysticShadowWanderer  
  
Disclaimer: And Duane E. Scott, the elevator necromancer, was beloved by the people, and he was the kindest elevator necromancer that they'd ever met, and thus the peasants rejoiced. But Duane E. Scott had his own plans...

* * *

_Third Movement_

* * *

One of Kaoru's feet tapped the classroom floor idly as she half-listened to her professor's lecture. It was a large class, mostly because she simply couldn't afford to go to a smaller, more specialized college, even with the scholarship money she had received. Ever since her parents passed away... But it was better not to think of that, especially not at a time like this. It wouldn't do to start crying during a lecture in a psychological science class. One of the students near her turned to send her a glare and she quickly stilled her restless foot, choosing to instead drum her fingers against the denim at her thigh, which was noiseless and just as effective. Sighing silently, she tried to focus her attention on what she knew she would need to have memorized later. But the music was taking her over, and her heart ached to hear Kenshin play again. She knew it was wrong to be so fixated, and she knew that it would only hurt her in the end, but someone the thought didn't connect quite as well as it should. So she continued to allow herself to go over the notes in her head.  
  
Class couldn't end early enough, and Kaoru rushed out, heading home to her apartment, which she'd been promised would contain a new piano by the time she was home from lunch. She smiled happily as she set her bag down on a bench and pulled out her portable CD player, placing one of the headphones in her ear comfortably. She flipped through the songs until she was pleased with her selection, and she walked off toward the Starbucks where she would grab a quick cup of coffee and maybe some kind of snack to tide her over until she ate a larger meal later. Beethoven's Minuet in G Minor streamed through her veins as she carefully wove her way through crowds of people to get to her destination. By this time in life, she was fairly good at getting from once place to another in a relatively quick manner. Of course, crowds were not her favorite thing to deal with, far from it in fact, but with the music she was playing, it seemed more bearable.  
  
Stepping through the doorway to the coffee shop, she patted her pockets and frowned when she realized that she had no money with her today. That was slightly distressing, because it was her daily routine to get her coffee at Starbucks before going home to study and relax. It shouldn't have been very troubling but for the fact that she never forgot her money. Perhaps it was a sign that she was letting herself become a bit too preoccupied, she mused. But she disregarded that thought and simply shrugged, turning and heading for home. It wouldn't hurt to miss one day's coffee, anyhow. All that caffeine could hardly be good for her. Having the entire situation rationalized, she stepped out into the warm sunlight and strode off toward home.

* * *

A kind, smiling old man met her at her own door, and she couldn't help but return the smile, the excitement and happiness on his face spreading to her own.  
  
"This was very nice of you, Tanaka-san," she said softly as she tucked away her headphones so that she would not seem rude to the man.  
  
"It was no trouble at all, Kamiya-san," he replied cheerfully. "You were so kind as to entrust us with your apartment key, and this was the least we could do for you, my dear. I've seen how much you love the music, and it gives me hope for the future. I am most pleased to be able to oversee the placement of your new piano. You have passion, Kamiya-san, passion for the art of music. I think that you could go far."  
  
Kaoru flushed at his praise, and was unsure exactly how to respond correctly. He smiled knowingly, and placed her key in her palm. With a gesture to the two men who were helping him with the heavy lifting and maneuvering of the instrument, he politely bid Kaoru farewell and left her with her new piano.  
  
Shutting the door gently, he smiled at one of the men, his son. "That girl has something special. It's in her eyes. Even though she has never played, she is one of the most accomplished musicians that has ever set foot in our store, just because of her understanding. One can spend a lifetime learning technique and perfecting the mechanics and never earn that kind of understanding."

* * *

Kaoru dropped her bag on the couch and moved to stand beside her new piano. It gleamed in the light from the tall glass-paneled door and the large windows on her wall. Her hand stretched out to run over the sleek top almost reverently before she pulled out the bench and sat down before it. She placed her hands over the keys and was still.  
  
There was no sheet music, nothing that she could play. Even if there was, she wouldn't know how to go about reading it. At least not well enough to play like she wanted to. She'd taken some music classes in high school, and she knew what the notes were and how to interpret them, but she had never played anything. Never had she even sat in front of a piano. It was as if she'd been afraid to, afraid that she wouldn't be able to accomplish a goal. In truth, it had never occurred to her to ask for piano lessons as a child, and when it finally did, the family was having so much trouble paying for her mother's medical bills that she had no desire to burden them with her wishes. She knew that her father would have tried to find some way to make it possible, but it would have been hard on him.  
  
Reaching up, she brushed away a few tears. It was useless to think of that now. All the tears in the world could never bring them back, and she had to focus on what was in front of her. And what was in front of her was a beautiful new piano that practically begged to be played. With a deep breath for courage, she pressed down on the keys, moving one finger at a time until it sounded nice and the notes didn't clash.  
  
Her fingers moved slowly, picking out a simple, childish little tune as it came to her. There were frequent sour notes, notes so close to one another that they rang out in discord, but through it all wound a deliberate but hushed, faint but honeyed melody that held fast and ran into her fingertips. It was there, in the memory of her hands, and when she silently pushed the bench back and stood up, it replayed in her head.  
  
A small smile crept onto her face. It was fulfilling to play, even if it hadn't always been pretty to listen to, she'd still had something that was her own. For a brief moment, she'd been in complete control, dictating which note went where. She wondered if that was the same way Kenshin felt when he played. But if she was a dictator when she sat at the bench, then Himura Kenshin was a god. When it came down to it, she mused, that was perhaps what he was when he moved his fingers over the keys. He had the power to create, to change, to abolish completely. When he was sad, the keys rained, when he was happy, they played with the warmth of a sunny day. Were those not qualities reserved for gods?  
  
Kaoru yearned to be able to express herself with such mastery. As a general rule, she didn't let her emotions show freely, because those emotions could be used against her and used to hurt her. There was no one that she could really confide in, because her time was nearly completely devoted to school, and occasionally to her art. She glanced at the paintings and drawings that hung in various places in the room. Those were all the self-expression she had, and to anyone but her, it was unlikely that they'd make much sense or be very affecting. But music... music could strike right at the heart of a person, no matter whether they knew the composer or not. And if she could put her feelings into the keys, then maybe she could attain some peace of mind.  
  
She sighed as she grabbed a bottle of water and an apple from her refrigerator and went out onto the balcony. Biting into the fruit, the sharp crunch satisfying and the juice sweet, she fleetingly mused that this was much healthier than her typical midday snack. Again she sighed, returning to her earlier thoughts to wonder why exactly it was that she didn't have many friends in her life. It wasn't that she was an unfriendly person, because she was exactly the opposite, but for some reason she'd never connected with anyone, at least not in her adult life. Maybe it was because she'd first been so busy just trying to survive and now she was intent on her studies, trying to prove herself as a worthy contribution to society. Or maybe she just couldn't make friends after her parents' deaths, because it lingered too much. She wasn't sad all the time, but she wasn't happy all the time, which seemed normal. And she had a few friends here and there, though they weren't all that close.  
  
She berated herself momentarily. She got by just fine, she reminded herself. Here she was, a industrious, productive college student that was on the road to one day becoming a fine psychiatrist, and she had a good job that, even if it was only three days a week, paid well and was rewarding. Now she had a lovely piano and an instructor that she was sure would be wonderful to learn from. What more could she ask for?  
  
Someone to confide in. Someone who would help her through the sad times and let her cry on their shoulder. And it wasn't much to ask for, she knew. Just one person...  
  
"But it's better not to let that trouble me right now," she said to herself, closing her eyes to drink in the cool breeze and the warmth of the sun on her face. "It's not so bad, and I'm living a good life, so I shouldn't complain. After all, there are so many people who need more help than I do. It's unfair to be unhappy with my life. Besides, with time things will get better."  
  
Most of her believed that, but a small part insistently plagued her. She shoved that away and continued to eat her apple. For some reason, it tasted better today than it usually would have. Something about the sun and the sky and her newfound delight with her piano made everything seem as though it was fine for the moment. Or maybe it was just a good season for apples; she sighed. Thinking like that would bring her down.

* * *

Groaning slightly, Kenshin tossed and turned fitfully. The way he was twisted in his sheets was causing him to panic in his sleep, unable to tolerate the feeling of entrapment, even though he knew he could easily escape. His eyes shot open and he sat bolt upright, breathing heavily with his heart pounding.  
  
Those dreams again... it was always the same. There was always so much blood, and he was always the cause. And he hated it.  
  
He threw the sheets off and stretched slightly, throwing his legs over the side of the bed. Maybe a glass of milk would be helpful. And perhaps a cookie. Standing, he took a moment to clear the dizziness from his head at the sudden movement, and then padded softly out of his bedroom and into the kitchen. Because of the spotlessness of the room, he quickly found everything that he wanted and was seated at the kitchen table a mere five minutes later.  
  
Dipping his cookie in his milk, he frowned when he left it in too long and it crumbled and sank slowly to the bottom of the glass. If that was the way his luck was going to be, maybe he should call in sick tonight. But his thoughts were only half serious because he was rarely ill, and he never called in sick. It wasn't that his job was so important to him that he felt the need to be there, though it paid well, but his sense of responsibility, and guilt, wouldn't allow him to miss days frivolously. He worked the night shift as a security guard at a private museum with an extremely overprotective owner. It was an easy task, compared to his last job at least. He cringed as he thought about it. The nighttime work was familiar to him. He just prayed that the owner would never call upon him to kill, because that would be the end of that job.  
  
"Never again," he murmured, not for the first time and certainly not for the last.  
  
He'd worked for the government when he was younger as one of their top assassins. And while he'd never really liked to kill, not like some people he'd met, he'd gotten used to it. He didn't know if he would have ended up enjoying it if he'd kept the job long enough, but he knew that if he had, he would have probably killed himself by now. The work had gotten to him eventually, like a slow poison, and he'd quit. All he wanted now was to live peacefully and play the piano, which helped him keep his sanity.  
  
"And have a cookie," he said glumly as he sat staring at his ruined milk. It didn't seem worth the trouble to get another one, because it somewhat spoiled the pleasure of eating it to have to make so much effort to get it whilst knowing that he was only getting another because he destroyed the first one.  
  
Kenshin liked cookies, they reminded him of the few good things he'd had in life. They also reminded him of childhood, which he'd mostly missed out on. Orphaned at a young age, he'd been taken in by a strict but, mostly, kind man who'd trained him in swordsmanship. It had been a hard life, but he'd learned a lot about himself and about morals, and he couldn't complain.  
  
He sighed; it seemed he was always ruining his cookies these days.

* * *

A/N: Aw. He just wanted a cookie... :sniffles: That's definitely a metaphor I've never used before... cookies... Hm. Anyhow, this chapter appears to be steering me toward two things. A) More angsty feelings brought about by self-examination (Did you know that the existentialist definition of "angst" is something along the lines of the deep, unhealable sorrow attained by realizing one's own existence. :doomandgloom: And probably something about the futility of it all. Oh weep. Oh heartache.), and B) More romance (yay! we all love fluff!) In truth, I'm going to be cutting back on the fluff in this story. I like it as much as the next person, but... well... just trust me. I know what I want out of this, and it doesn't call for fluff. Anyhow, I'm off to go... with the flow. Or something like that. I think it's incense-and-bed time for me. By the way, find the song "Into The Darkness" by No Motiv. Good stuff... 

BY THE WAY! Updates are going to be less frequent now, because school has started and my brother's an asshole. Sorry folks... Also! I'm starting work on a new story called "Provoking Dragons," just so you know to keep a lookout :grin: It won't be posted for a while... I want to get it really started before I post. So... yeah...


	5. Fourth Movement

**Symphony**

MysticShadowWanderer

Disclaimer: Whatever…

* * *

Fourth Movement

Her hands were shaking, just slightly, as she knocked on his door. The noise sounded weak, as if she were scared to attract his attention. But she wanted this more than anything and had waited all week for this moment. Still, she couldn't help but be just a bit nervous as she waited for Kenshin to open his door.

How long had she been standing outside his apartment? She wasn't sure anymore. Originally she'd planned to be there a few minutes early, but had been forced to spend several hours gathering her courage and calming her nerves. Memories that she couldn't quite remember were screaming at her mind and she wasn't sure what to do. Something this simple shouldn't be so confusing and stressful.

Shaken out of her trance by the rattling of the knob as Kenshin unlocked and opened the door, she mustered a wavering smile that was met by the warmth of his own smile. That in itself was reassuring, and she felt herself steadying as she stepped into the apartment. After all, what was there to be afraid of?

* * *

The first thing that Kenshin noticed when he opened the door was how terrified she looked. He didn't understand how she could be scared of him, unless she had learned about his past. But the look in her eyes told him that was not the case. A smile was enough to encourage her, and he led her to the piano in slight confusion.

The first words he spoke to her were to please take a seat. It seemed a strange way to open an exchange, but he'd never considered himself such a wonderful conversationalist. He watched as she tentatively pulled out the bench and sat down, leaving room for him to sit beside her, which he did. Instinctively, her hands strayed over the piano and he marveled at the beauty of the casual gesture. Her hands looked soft and nimble, strong against the simplistic fascination of the keys themselves. What most enthralled him was that her hands remained a pale, creamy color. They didn't flower with crimson and they didn't pass decay onto the ivories like his hands were wont to do. He found himself unconsciously brushing at his eye, immediately thankful that Kaoru had not looked up to see his solitary tear.

Kaoru bit her lower lip as she allowed her hands to brush over the soft, well-worn keys. It seemed sacrilegious to lay even a single finger on such and instrument that was fine enough that a god might sit down to play it. But here she was, the gracious little blasphemer with her hands seeping warmth onto the piano as they absorbed the cold of the precious keys that she rested them against.

"Why don't you play something?" Kenshin asked quietly, and she glanced up at him quickly to find him looking at her in some sort of enthrallment. What was that expression on his face? It appeared almost knowing, as if he was aware of some great secret that she was not allowed to hear.

"But… I don't know any songs," she half-whispered in reply. The things that she played in her apartment were out of place here, with this instrument.

"Just press your fingers on the keys," he suggested, "and play anything that comes to you."

She began to protest, but he interrupted her gently. "Shh, it's alright." His words were just barely on the audible side of silence. The hushed, almost intimate tone of his words caused her flesh to crawl with head, and he smiled to himself as a pink hue spread across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. He nodded to her, and she looked back down at the keys, slowly beginning to pick out a melody.

Kenshin watched her hands as they moved; he knew this song. Where had he heard it before? The strain of the melody was so clear, so simplistic. But he knew with everything he was that he'd heard this somewhere. Kaoru was deep in concentration, and didn't notice when he stood and moved behind her. She did notice, though, when his gentle hands were suddenly covering her eyes, and she froze, crying out slightly.

"Don't worry," he said, his voice quiet. "Just feel, you don't need to see. Let yourself play."

Biting her lip again, she nodded against his firm yet soft grip and started to move her fingers again. Kenshin fought back a gasp, as her playing was a bit more resolved and more forceful. It wasn't some nonsense melody that she couldn't grasp at, it had rhythm and meaning and emotion. And it was his piece that she played.

It wasn't exactly the same, he noted. It played a bit brighter than his and set a lighter mood. Somehow it was softer and ultimately more feminine. He counted in his head as she played, as she became surer of herself. The piece had measures, counted correctly; it was all accurate in technical terms. And it matched his. At exactly the time where his plunged into despair, hers soared into delight and when his lifted into happiness, hers sank into depression. It was as if it were counterbalancing what he would play. Her fingers were moving furiously fast now. And she said she'd never played… This piece was proving her wrong somehow. It was a picture of perfection in every way he could possibly conceive. Yet… it was as incomplete as his felt when he played it.

The notes flickered away, her hands stilling, and he felt her shift beneath his hands, which still clasped at her head, almost desperately now. Mumbling apologies, he swiftly released her, unwilling for her to see the slight trembling of his fingers.

"Kenshin…" she whispered. "Kenshin, what was that?"

He shook his head and went to brace himself against the window with one arm above his head. Dipping forward, his head rested against the glass. What was this? It frightened him that he didn't know. In a flash, he stiffened and could again see the dancers that visited him in his dreams, and, he knew now, visited her in her dreams as well. What was all this?

"Kaoru, I…" his words trailed off. He didn't know what he wanted to say, but he felt that there was something that simply had to be expressed. This was so frustrating. Everything was right there, right within the reach of his mind, but he couldn't quite seem to bring it all together. What was going on?

"Maybe I should leave," Kaoru said softly.

"No," he said without hesitation. "No, don't leave. Play that again."

"I don't know… I don't know if I can."

"You can."

Kaoru breathed in deeply and set her hands against the keys, but she didn't know where to start. Her fingers pressed at a few notes, but they all seemed pale and lifeless. Kenshin came behind her again and settled his hands over her eyes.

"Don't look. Just play."

This time she could feel the tremble in his fingers, the electricity in his touch. He was reaching out to her, trying to understand something that neither of them could grasp. And she could play now, as if his hands stealing her sight were some sort of trigger, she could play. This time it was natural. There was no stiffness in her hands, no protest of unused muscles, when she let her fingers dance almost wildly out of control. But everything was there in a canvas painting of perfection. She knew this as if it were her own soul. How was this possible?

The muffled splash of tears against her hair almost startled her enough to make her lose focus, but she dutifully ignored his pain. What was this?

* * *

Kaoru sat back against her couch, absently flipping through the channels on television. The last thing she wanted to do right now was think, because that would just confuse her more than she already was. Once more she felt herself walking the thin line between genius and insanity, and this music was pushing her ever closer to the edge. Before she even formulated the question, she knew the answer. Yes, it was worth it.

A heavy sigh passed her lips and she nearly threw the remote controller down on the floor and hauled herself to her feet. To sit around in this manner simply would not do. Though she didn't have class tomorrow, she felt that she should at least be studying. But she knew that was an impossibility at the moment, and settled for a warm bath.

Unaware of a pair of eyes watching her through two windows, she moved about the room, gathering a bathrobe that had been tossed forgotten in a chair and then heading to the kitchen for an essential oil to put in her bath.

* * *

Kenshin followed her path with his eyes as he lay in silence on the hardwood floor in front of his window. He'd ushered her out of his apartment not long after she finished playing her piece for the second time, shameful of the lingering tears on his face. For her part, she pretended not to notice and kept her gaze fixed on her hands or his. Again he'd noted her almost compulsive interest in his hands. When he could no longer see her moving in her apartment, he lifted his hands up before his eyes, squinting as he tried to understand what she saw.

All he saw was blood and sin, heartbreak and despair.

* * *

Dipping a few fingers in the water, Kaoru smiled. It was always nice when she got the temperature exactly right with the first effort. She hummed to herself as she carefully added her lavender oil to the water. Tonight, she decided, she would allow herself to relax s she hadn't done in quite some time. And what better than warm water and the gently floating scent of a calming plant?

Her breath was released all at once as she sank gracefully into the tub. This was what life was meant to be like. Every so often it was nice to retreat from the world. She felt herself growing slightly drowsy, but willed her mind to stay awake, lest she drown in the nearly full bathtub.

Still, the sensuous, tranquil aroma of lavender swallowed her and her sight became hazy. Just as she was telling herself that she would have to get out or risk potential injury or death, her thoughts left her to be replaced with something much more vivid.

Those infuriatingly silent dancers swirled in front of her open but closed eyes. Mentally she was screaming at the scene, confused and scared at this incident. Nothing like this had ever happened to her. She could feel herself beginning to spin, dancing with them this time. Her body passed other closely, but they never quite touched save for at the hands. This was planned to the very last footfall, but she didn't know how she knew the movements. The stiff dress she wore twirled around her, and the corset around her waist made it pleasantly difficult to breathe, just enough so that she felt lightheaded. Now and then she could see faces, but there were unfamiliar. One man swooped closer to her sight, and the image froze. Suddenly everyone else faded away and she was facing him alone. She couldn't recognize him, but she knew that she knew who he was. Something about those eyes…

Kaoru came back to awareness with a jolt, shocked and frightened. Shaking her body to awaken it, she quickly stepped out of the tub and slipped into her bathrobe, tying it tightly shut and wrapping her arms around herself.

This kind of thing just didn't happen to her. It never had before. At least she thought it hadn't. Distantly, as if pulling the memory through years of cobweb and blue mist, she recalled her mother once saying something about her great-grandmother having some special talent, but she couldn't remember exactly what. It had been so long ago…

Things like this didn't happen every day, she decided, and she would find out what she'd just experienced. With a resolute nod, she sat down in front of her computer, her hair still dripping wet and still clad only in a bathrobe. It didn't matter.

The World Wide Web could be such a useful tool, and within minutes she skillfully steered her browser into a chat room. Usually she abhorred the idea, but desperate times called for desperate measures, as the saying went.

Thebluepianist, herself, wanted to know what a vision meant. ObscuredShadow, someone who claimed to be from England, asked for more details. Kaoru chewed on her lip and wondered whether it was wise to tell a complete stranger about something that seemed so personal. Then again, what could it hurt? She began to type out the images she'd seen, describing everything as accurately as possible. As she finished, she found herself with a barrage of replies that at first baffled her. She read more carefully to make sense of it. One in particular seemed to jump out at her, and she saved the text in her word processor to ponder over later.

"It sounds like a past life, Blue. Anything can set off a memory like that, a scent, an emotion, a new person, a song. It's impossible to be completely certain, but it's more than likely that something you've encountered lately has made a part of you release this and I'd say that it's due at least some attention. Think about it – has anything called to you very strongly in the past few weeks?"

Kaoru thanked the person, who called herself Glass Sorceress, and quickly logged off. The casual exchange of intimate information between strangers was fearful to her. The thought that someone you didn't know could know everything about you was sad in a way. Especially when so few people had friends that they could treat in such a way. Had the world become so cold?

* * *

She lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling and simply reflecting. The darkness engulfed her, but wasn't threatening, and she wondered about everything that had happened during the day. The way she'd felt when she played was phenomenal, and part of her was scared to try it again. The other part was clamoring for the music. She wasn't sure which part to listen to.

Past lives were another issue altogether. Though she'd always thought, or maybe hoped, that she was open-minded, she wasn't sure how to feel about such new ideas. It wasn't as if she'd ever scoffed at anyone who said they could remember past lives, but she'd just never thought that she had any. Was that what it meant to disbelieve? She didn't know. And who was that man in the vision?

As if it hit her physically, she bolted into an upright, sitting position. The thought was too strange. But suddenly she knew, just as she knew her own name, what all of this meant.

How could anything like this be possible?

* * *

A/N: I wrote this pretty much forever ago, but then I had all those computer problems and what not. I typed this while I wasn't looking at it (I was looking at the laptop), so please excuse any errors. I'm too tired to go back and look for them. I don't think I'll be writing much for a while, sorry guys… One of the cats that I've had for 12 years just died on Friday, so I'm kind of non-artistically inclined lately. Hopefully I'll get some brainwaves going, though… By the way, if anyone knows where to find sheet music to Malice Mizer's "Regret" or Gackt's "Blue," you will be my best friend on the face of the planet. 


	6. Intermezzo

**Symphony **

MysticShadowWanderer

Disclaimer: One day, Duane E. Scott, elevator necromancer, went off on a Journey. While singing "Lights" (When the lights go down in the city...), he met up with Clovis, King of the Freaks...

* * *

Intermezzo

* * *

The ceiling greeted Kenshin as cheerlessly as it ever had when he opened his eyes. A low groan passed his lips as he stretched his aching limbs; he hadn't meant to fall asleep on the floor and he was now regretting the mistake. Through the gossamer curtains that he hadn't remembered uncouthly pulling closed, the glaringly full moon gazed down at him in half-hearted disapproval and for less than an instant he felt as though they were watching him again. Shaking his head to dismiss such paranoid thoughts, he reassured himself that he was free of the shackles of his previous life; he had severed the ties that he had so painstakingly linked together in his youth.

With loud protesting from his offended back, he struggled to sit up. A frown creased his face when he thought back on the days when he would sleep nightly on hardwood floors, reclined against a wall or a stack of books or whatever was provided him; this luxurious lifestyle that he'd created for himself in hopes of killing off painful memories had lulled him into a sense of security and laziness. He felt as though he were hopelessly out of shape and resolved to spend more time practicing his swordsmanship, despite the fact that he rarely had to use it anymore. One could not stay physically healthy if they spent most of their free time sitting in front of a piano.

Stifling a yawn, he stretched, catlike, once more before standing. In another brief moment of panic he recalled that he had been expected at work three hours ago and his eyes widened impossibly while his body froze completely until he realized that it was Saturday night, and he had Saturdays off. Apparently his employer was under the impression that he was a religious man and attended church on Sunday mornings. He wasn't entirely sure how and when this conclusion had been reached, but it really made no difference to Kenshin when his free day fell, because he rarely did anything other than train and play the piano or perhaps, every so often, go to an art gallery. He liked to live as simply as possible in these hectic times.

* * *

Kaoru was silently thankful that she didn't have classes until one in the afternoon on Sundays, because she knew that sleep would be hard to come by that night. Instead of even attempting to relax in her bed, she was pacing the long wall of what she'd so recently deemed the piano room with a cup of green tea in her hand that was all but forgotten. All her newfound knowledge was converging quite violently with what she had previously thought she knew; revelations and foundations were colliding and breaking apart with all the force that she could muster so late at night, and she could feel the onset of a tremendous headache.

How could she possibly be right? It didn't make any sense. At least she thought it didn't make any sense before, now she wasn't so sure. Certainly, it would explain some things, but it left so many other questions unanswerable. With a huge sigh, she dropped down in a thick armchair that she'd salvaged from a thrift store and made presentable with only minimal sewing requirements.

Setting her mug aside, she rubbed her temples softly with well-practiced fingertips. What should she do now? The immediate answer was to get online and look for answers, but she couldn't seem to get over her instinctive skepticism and it didn't appear to be such a good source as it was. How could you trust anyone you met or anything you read online?

There was one question that overwhelmed all the others in her mind, though, one that bre more significance than all the rest:

How would she be able to face him again?

* * *

A/N: A few things to clear up, which means, fun facts! Yes, this chapter was short. Yes, I did it on purpose, for formatting reasons and mostly just because I'm weird. Note the title, please.

_Intermezzo_: noun (pl. intermezzi or intermezzos) 1) A short connecting instrumental movement in an opera or other musical work. 2) A short piece for a solo instrument. 3) A light dramatic or other performance between the acts of a play.

See! Now it all makes perfect sense! Yay! Also, in my last A/N, I must have lied. Apparently I'm feeling extra creative after taking a day off and only sitting around playing the piano and listening to classical music. Sweet. Also, in the disclaimer... Well, it's nothing important, but I just wanted to mention that Clovis was actually the king of the Francs. Turns out when I skim chapters in my world history book that I make some rather entertaining mistakes in eye-to-brain translation...


	7. 2nd Symphony: First Movement

_Symphony _

MysticShadowWanderer

Disclaimer: And Clovis, King of the Freaks, said unto Duane E. Scott, Elevator Necromancer, "Halt, fiend! For thou singeth the filth that is known here only as... Journey. We dare not singeth such light rock in these lands, for God shall smite thee for thine transgressions. If sing you must, sing naught but Marilyn Manson, for thus God will be much pleased."...

* * *

2nd Symphony: First Movement

* * *

Kaoru couldn't keep her heart from beating a furioso rhythm beneath her chest as she stepped into Kenshin's apartment. It felt as though he knew what she was thinking just by looking at her face; sometimes she thought he could read her like a book that lay open on the floor, just waiting for someone like him to pick up and peruse. Could he hear her pulse racing?

Kenshin simply gave her that familiar reassuring smile and she had to suppress her sigh of relief. He didn't know; she had been foolish to think that he could possibly have come to the same conclusion she had reached. After all, the prospects of that sort of thing happening was slim to none, if that. Then again, she reminded herself, the probability that any of the things that had transpired recently would actually come to pass was even less than that.

Forcing her lips to quirk upward at least a bit, she gave a polite nod to Kenshin as he ushered her to the piano bench. She had to admit, even if it was only to herself, she had been looking forward to playing again. All week she had been slightly nervous, though, because she had never liked to harbor secrets. And this was more than the usual inconsequential bit of information.

She gave a start when she heard Kenshin's voice. His words hadn't registered with her and she flushed slightly as she asked him to repeat himself.

"I know you've been practicing," he said softly. "Won't you please play what you've been working on?"

Last Saturday he'd shown her enough basics that, added to her limited knowledge of music theory that she'd gleaned from high school, she had been able to start learning a real piece of music. They both realized that her performance the week before was simply amazing, nearly unheard of, but she wanted to be able to read music as well as any trained pianist. With a tentative smile that was rewarded by another of his beautiful grins, she pulled her sheet music out of her tote bag and fumbled to get it open and placed on the piano. He chuckled quietly and helped her with the daunting task of unfolding her music, patting her hand affably when she had gotten herself sorted out. She blushed again and quickly positioned her hands on the keys, eager to slip away into the world of music where she wouldn't be such an embarrassment to herself with her ineptitude.

Kenshin's eyes and smile widened as he listened to Kaoru play through the andante movement of Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata." A week, he told himself incredulously, she'd been playing for a week. Truly the piece she'd chosen was one of the less challenging works for the piano (he would acknowledge only in his private thoughts that he detested playing the song, as it was boring even at the same time that it was lovely; it was likely that she would come to feel the same way eventually), but for a beginner to have nearly mastered it in a week? It was hard to believe, yet he was witnessing it. The look on her face was pure concentration, and he found himself drawn to that, drawn to another musician who could feel the soul of the piano as he could. Mentally he shook himself; it was best not to travel down the road he had been maneuvering so naturally toward. As the piece slowed to an elegant finish, Kenshin watched in a manner of fascination as Kaoru lazily opened her eyes. Somehow he hadn't gotten the impression that she was aware of the fact that she had closed her eyes during the time that she'd been playing. They locked gazes and Kenshin noted that her eyes were slightly glazed over, as if she were pulling herself out of another world that only she and the piano were allowed access to. He knew the feeling better than he knew his own soul, but couldn't help the sudden longing to also be permitted into that world as she witnessed it.

"It seems that you are nothing less than a musical prodigy," he mused aloud. "You sound quite the savant."

Kaoru laughed slightly. "An idiot savant, at the very best. I think you're too kind to me."

Though Kenshin smiled at her remark, she was proving herself to be rather charming in her dry humor, simultaneously he shook his head. She deserved any praise he gave her, and he was quick to tell her how he felt about that. She had very easily gained his respect as not only a musician, but as an artist and, most importantly, a person. However, while he wanted to say all those things, how much he valued her talents and personality, he couldn't find even the dregs of the courage that he needed to express such sentiments. Kenshin sighed nearly silently; he just wasn't any good with people. It seemed that Kaoru sensed his unease in that moment, because she spoke up in an attempt to draw his attention elsewhere.

"I felt as if I only stumbled through these few measures," she said, running her finger along the music in a place that Kenshin hadn't realized she'd been struggling with enough that it had been notable. Almost smiling again but biting it back because it would have been rude, he looked a little more closely at the measures she'd pointed out and then played them out for her. She nodded as she watched his fingers dance and when she played the section again it was perfect.

Kenshin picked out a few more points in the song where he thought she could strengthen her performance, but on the whole he felt somewhat useless to her. Did she really need his assistance in learning?

"You know," he said softly, "you may want to consider studying from someone with more credentials than I have. I can see you working under a master one day, being someone's protégée. You're going to be good enough. You're going to be brilliant, Kaoru."

"I-I don't think so," she said, her voice so low that he inadvertently leaned forward a bit to hear her. "I would feel... uncomfortable... studying with someone else. I'm not sure..."

Kenshin took one of her hands in both of his and she had to fight back the urge to jerk it away when she felt a shock run through her at his touch; it was as if she were almost on the edge of some sort of breakthrough and it just wouldn't come. He noticed this and gave her something of a curious look, his head tilting slightly to one side. But he didn't ask, and for that she was grateful.

"Kaoru, I appreciate your honesty, and I'm glad you feel at ease with me, but I just feel that with a better teacher that your talent would be better put to use. I want you to be recognized, I really do. You have genius in you."

"I don't know about that..." she whispered, her face a vivid shade of crimson by then.

"No, Kaoru, you do. I don't say these things lightly. Please don't think that I do. Please, please take me seriously. You don't understand... you don't know how amazing it is that you've learned a Beethoven piece after having played piano for two weeks. And last week when you played that song... last week was nothing short of a miracle. No, don't shake your head like that, it's true. I don't know who decided to give you such a gift or why and I don't know why you were sent to me, but this is all some sort of a puzzle that I haven't yet worked out. All the pieces interlock and we're entwined now in ways that I don't understand. But I want to, I do so want to know what's going on here. Because something is, Kaoru, please believe me when I say that something astounding and confusing is happening, and it involves both of us."

Kaoru could do nothing more than stare at him in complete disbelief, stunned into silence by his sudden outpouring of words. She'd never heard a more heartfelt plea, and she suddenly couldn't remember how to move, think, or even breathe. When her mouth opened, she merely hoped that whatever she said was the right thing.

"You have such a beautiful soul." She paled before she blushed furiously; that was not what she had meant by the right thing. But she didn't try to somehow make him think that she didn't believe in what she said, or that she hadn't said it the way it was supposed to come out, because she felt deep in the core of her that it was very true.

Kenshin's heart went out to the girl sitting next to him with her head bowed half in shame and half to hide the redness of her cheeks. Such a thing hadn't been said to him for such a long time, not since the days of his marriage, before his wife had been killed. But he didn't want to think of those times, for that only filled him with sorrow and regret. Still, he didn't know how to respond to Kaoru's sincerity.

Kaoru bit her lip to keep from crying in embarrassment. Because she was such an introspective person, she had to be with the way she lived life, to come out and say something like she had was horrifying. And now Kenshin wasn't saying anything. This situation had gotten out of hand. Perhaps it was best to leave.

As she started to reach up to collect her music, Kenshin's hand shot out and stopped her. When she lowered her head again, he carefully placed his free hand at her chin and lifted her face so that their eyes could meet. If he wanted to say something, he had to say it now and he was aware of that.

"Kaoru..." His mind raced, trying to formulate something, anything, that would put her back at ease and allow her to see how much her words affected him. But there was nothing for him to fall back on, and he simply repeated her name.

Kaoru's breath caught as his whisperings of her name ghosted over her lips. Too close, she thought, they were too close. Swiftly she broke away and grabbed her music, clutching it to her chest.

"I'm sorry, I have to go," she stammered. "I'm sorry."

"I understand," Kenshin said quietly. "Please keep practicing... I'll see you next week?"

She nodded frantically and practically dashed out of his apartment. He watched the door almost hit her in her haste to close it behind her and then he slouched over with a heavy sigh. This girl was a complete mystery to him. She was brilliant in more than one way, and she was so skittish. And lonely. He could practically taste the loneliness rolling off her in waves, and it broke his heart for her.

* * *

Kaoru slammed the door and leaned with her back against it, her breath short from having run all the way from Kenshin's apartment to her own. Dropping her music and watching despondently as it floated gently to the floor where it scattered about her, she slid down the door until she was seated roughly. It felt like she was going insane.

So what if he'd been close enough to kiss her? That didn't mean that he would have. And even if he had, why did that bother her?

Because she could fall in love with him. Because maybe she already had. And she didn't want to be in love, she never wanted to be in love again.

The way he'd praised her had made her so very uncomfortable, yet she was unsure why. All over her life she'd been told she was brilliant, that she was amazing, a prodigy. That was why she had to pay almost nothing for her schooling and she could live so handsomely off the pay of a mere three-day-a-week internship. In the back of her mind, though, she always wondered if all of the things that had been given to her, her schooling and her job and such, were gifts from a society that pitied her because she had no parents. She knew she was smart, even while she didn't like to be arrogant about it, but there were people who deserved the chances she'd gotten more than she did, and she thought that maybe she had her chances simply because she was parentless and had been living in an almost squalid state when she'd been applying for scholarships and her internship. She knew that she was extremely overpaid for her position at the office, and she got a strong impression that was because she was an orphan trying to make it in the world without any living relatives. Or at least she was unaware of any living relatives. If she had any, they didn't want to be associated with her, which for some reason sat just fine with her, though it shouldn't have.

Kaoru sighed as she languidly began to gather her music. She still had work to do tonight before she could take a bath and go to bed. Her professors had started giving more work than ever and even if she'd been expecting it, the workload was starting to become a little overwhelming. Maybe she just wasn't going to make it in college, she contemplated.

* * *

Kenshin flung himself into his bed with abandon, the pillows and comforter welcoming as they swallowed his body with comfort. Somnolence hadn't settled over him yet, and he knew it wouldn't for several more hours at least, but he needed somewhere to think and, save for when he was sitting in front of the piano, he felt safest in his bedroom. It was an inexplicable feeling, but it was solid to him and like many things he chose not to question it.

Today had been one of the strangest days of his life to date. In retrospect, he realized that he had been far too close to Kaoru earlier, that he had completely encroached upon her personal space, but for some reason it had felt right to him. It felt right in the same way that his bedroom felt safe, thus he didn't know how to explain it, even to himself. Sometimes he didn't like his intuition, because it held things secret from every part of him but his subconscious, which he didn't really have access to.

Was he falling for Kaoru? He had considered that often in the short time he'd known her. He knew that she was an attractive woman, and her intelligence, wit, and artistic abilities were fetching points for him, but he didn't really want to develop any kind of romantic feelings for her, mostly because he was unworthy of such things. But when had heart ever listened to mind?

All he was certain of was that he felt like he'd known her for longer than he could remember, and that something told him he could trust her. He wasn't sure why, but he sometimes thought he could sense how she felt more strongly than he could with other people. How were they connected?

* * *

A/N: Holy shit, it took me FOREVER to write that. It's not the best, but it's not too bad, I guess. I'm trying, eh? My will to write lately has just been like "Bleh." I always wind up playing Solitaire instead. It's pretty sad, actually. Anyhow, time for exciting news about my life. My parents and I went to this store that I've always wanted to go to, Henderson Music Company, because I was looking for a particular piece of sheet music. Turns out they don't carry sheet music, but the guy who was working there said "Go ahead and play a piano, don't be shy!" So I was like :shrug: "Ok." I played Bach's "Toccata & Fugue in D Minor", of course, it being the only song I have memorized, and I guess my mom and dad were talking to him about how I was pretty much self-taught and stuff (since I only took lessons for that year when I was 7 and whatnot), and he said I was really good. :bounce: He said I had a natural affinity for the piano and that I had a lot of style in the rhythm that I used and the changes in dynamics that I chose and such. I felt so special:grin: Anyhow, the really awesome part was that my dad agreed that I could start piano lessons in the summer with a guy who is apparently very, VERY good. The dude in the store suggested him because he plays a lot of classical and is working on his Masters from CCM (whoa the crazy prestige) and stuff. My dad said he'd pay for lessons even though they cost $75 a month for 4 half-hour lessons. I'm excited as hell, man...

In other big news, I'm seriously considering changing around this story a bit and having it published. If that's the case, I'm counting on you guys to be my adoring public! I haven't decided yet, but it's looking like a good possibility that I'll at least try to get published, so here's hoping!

Oh! Before I forget... One more thing that could possibly be good news for my beloved readers. Despite my general distaste for anti-depressants, I have just today become one of the medicated millions, so I'm hoping that I'll get back some of my ambition to write since I won't have to worry as much about that crazy depression. Well, of course... meds don't clear up EVERYTHING, but at least I'll be able to function and break teh cycle of not-goodness. :crosses fingers: Here goes nothing, ne? Plus, yay for yoga! Ok, that's all I have to say. Really.


	8. 2nd Symphony: Second Movement

**Symphony  
**MysticShadowWanderer

Disclaimer: And Duane E. Scott, elevator necromancer, said in return to Clovis, King of the Freaks, "Alas! For Marilyn Manson hath but a smallish place in my heart among the happy love filth deemed My Chemical Romance, which shall from this day forward be known truly for the sex that it is."...

* * *

2nd Symphony: Second Movement

* * *

"Pale angel, go away," Kenshin whispered to himself as he slowly forced his eyes open and dragged his mind out of that place between the conscious and unconscious realms of awareness and sleep. He only wished he knew to whom he was speaking. It used to be _her_ that haunted his dreams, but it was both of them now. Kaoru had started to make her way into his subconscious visions. Indeed, she was even overtaking the ones of his past mistakes, of _her_.

His rational mind told him that he was not dreaming about Kaoru, because in the fantasies of his sleeping world the woman that he recognized as the beautifully shy genius he was teaching to play the piano (though at times it felt more like she was the instructor and he the confused pupil) looked and oftentimes acted nothing like her. But somehow he simply knew that it was her, as if her insatiable energy had transcended the physical and even psychological to brand her for all eternity. For he had passed many an epoch in his dreams, and Kaoru had been present in each. She had been called by different names, marked by different characteristics, yet without fail there was some unidentifiable trait that followed her, some type of essence that brought her to life. And all of this felt so very real to him, which was frightening in a sense yet inexplicably exhilarating at the same time. These dreams were too strange for Kenshin to contemplate for very long, though, and he pulled himself wearily out of bed. His sleep had not been restful at all as of late. These perplexing illusions had been haunting him for weeks, becoming more frequent with each passing lesson he gave to Kaoru. At times he arose feeling even more tired than when he allowed his body to take haven in the comforting blanket of unconscious bliss.

* * *

Kaoru stretched languidly and yawned, then glanced at the glowing digital clock next to her bed and swore vehemently. For the first time since she'd started attending classes at her college, she'd slept through more than half of her classes for that day. The numbers on the clock's face mocked her with their brightness, telling her that it was late afternoon and that she had failed herself for the day. Her eyes momentarily brimmed with tears, but she blinked furiously until they became a distant, unimportant memory. She firmly commanded herself to make the better of the situation and put the day to some sort of use. As she dragged her peculiarly heavy limbs from the wordless, endless consolation of her warm bed, she was determined to catch up on all of her work that day, for school and otherwise. 

But as she padded quietly past her piano to the kitchen for the banana and glass of juice that would serve as her breakfast, she couldn't help but be drawn to its gleaming invitation of a magical wonderland. Food forgone, she sat at her bench wearing nothing but a button-down shirt, her hair still disheveled and her skin rosy from sleep. As her fingers, a bit clumsy at first but then gaining fluidity, pulled a melody from the air, she felt herself growing hazy, as though her mind were shutting down and letting her body take control. The song quickly escalated into that too-familiar piece that she and Kenshin had both played and her eyes closed completely as it thundered in her head. All thoughts that were not conducive to the musical madness were disregarded and whisked away.

* * *

Kenshin felt slightly guilty watching Kaoru through his window, but try as he might he could not shift his gaze from the sight of her playing. He noted her appearance fleetingly, but was more interested in the movements she was making, the near-convulsive way she was playing. It looked almost as though she were possessed, and he couldn't stop himself from staring. 

In his mind he could hear it, the music she played, and it was heart-wrenching and understated, absolutely tormented. He had been noticing her descent into this darkness; each passing lesson saw her more shrouded, as if a heavy cloak had settled around her shoulders. The music had started eating away at her as they moved on from the Moonlight Sonata to the Czerny etudes to Mozart to Bach and more. The pace at which she'd devoured each piece was truly inspiring, if not a bit frightening. Sometimes Kenshin thought that Kaoru had to be some sort of higher spirit, haunting him beautifully. With a slight jolt he thought of her current favorite piece that she was playing with rather than studying, her newfound obsession with "Think of Me". She was indeed his Angel of Music, although she seemed to believe that it was the other way around. But wasn't that the way of the damnable fate of the Phantom of the Opera? And did she see his disfigurement, more than just the scar on his face?

Kenshin clutched at his head; this was all too confusing and interconnected for him to deal with. Just as he began to turn so that he might hide himself away in the land woven by his piano, his breath was released in a gasp as he saw Kaoru go limp and drop from the bench in a heap of silken hair and entangled limbs. Without hesitation, he leapt for the door to his apartment.

* * *

The last thing Kaoru remembered was the way her hands felt as though they were disconnected from her body, then glorious darkness. It seemed that there was no solitude in her lack of consciousness, however, for she soon was surrounding by swirling music; sixteenth notes fluttered past her on shimmering wings created especially to torment her with their all too ethereal and fleeting beauty. As if watching her physical body from somewhere else –she felt as if she were sitting on a far away cloud, watching with more disinterest than anything other singular emotion– she saw her hands cupping her ears, clutching desperately in her hair as her body tightened into a ball in a pitiable attempt at escape. She wondered passingly just what she was coming to. 

When her eyes opened, Kenshin was peering down at her with a frightened expression staining his features. Kaoru reached a hand up to touch his cheek tentatively, as if to assure herself that he was real. His hand caught her fingers and slid down her palm in a near caress, but before she could protest she noticed that he was anxiously taking her pulse.

"I was having the strangest dream..." she murmured, her voice quiet and slightly hoarse. "The piece I was playing... You would have loved it."

Kenshin gave her half a smile, but she could tell that his heart really wasn't in it. Something about the way he kept glancing at her, the strange questioning in his eyes, told her that he'd had some sort of a revelation, but she could think of nothing that he might be concerned with.

"I saw you," he said softly. "I was... worried about you."

"Why?"

Kenshin blinked once, simultaneously incredulous and perplexed. "You fainted... I saw. I thought you might be injured."

Kaoru's face reddened as she mumbled a 'thank you.' Gaze shifting quickly, she immediately saw that he had somehow managed to break her door in. Her eyes started to roll back in her head at the thought of him bursting in on her as she lay in a heap wearing nothing but a shirt, but the gentlest tapping of his fingers on her burning cheek –obviously as much of a slap to her senses that he could bring himself to administer– brought her back to herself.

Kenshin stared down at her, carefully taking in each of her reactions and movements. For the first time, he allowed himself to look directly in her eyes; there was something old, something wise, in their depths. It made him feel like a child, yet at the same time awakened a part of him that he couldn't name, some emotion that he didn't know existed. What did she know that he was still struggling to grasp?

Under the intense scrutiny of his gaze, Kaoru blinked furiously and moved to sit up, thankful for the steady hand on her lower back when her head began to spin again. The spark in his stare told her that he was beginning to understand things that she didn't think she could find the courage to discuss.

"Here, I'll help you back to bed," Kenshin offered as he held out his arm to assist her to stand. "You look pale; I think you need to rest. Are you feeling well lately?"

"Apparently not," Kaoru said with a tiny, sheepish smile. "Thank you."

She couldn't convince Kenshin not to coddle her as he helped her hoist herself up into bed and then proceeded to pull her thick blankets up under her chin. Her face burned hotly when, during the task of tucking her in, his fingers brushed almost-casually against the soft skin of her neck and face. The somewhat strained look on his face told her that he was uncomfortable, but she couldn't help but appreciate his kindness.

"Thank you," she said quietly, snuggling deeper into the pillows. "I guess I just need a bit of rest."

Kenshin nodded to show his understanding. "I'll get you something to eat, and some juice. Is there anything in particular that you want?"

"Oh no, you don't have–"

"Don't worry, I insist. What's your favorite breakfast?"

"I usually just eat a piece of fruit and have some juice..."

With a hand gesture that struck Kaoru as both an agreement and a dismissal, Kenshin left the room, gently shutting the door behind him; within minutes she could hear him shuffling about the kitchen, moving pots and pans, opening and shutting cabinets and drawers. She couldn't be entirely certain of what he was up to, but it sounded suspiciously like cooking.

* * *

A full breakfast and several hours, Kaoru was lying listlessly in bed with Kenshin nervously looking on from a chair in the corner. At times she wished he'd leave, because the silence between them was more than a bit uncomfortable, but then she'd begin a coughing fit and he would immediately fetch her a glass of water, or she'd be struggling to get up to make the short trek to the bathroom and his hand would quickly be at her elbow to assist her, and she was inestimably glad that he was there to take care of her; she'd never felt so weak in all her life. 

Kenshin watched Kaoru's shallow breathing from under his thick bangs; he knew he was very worried about her, but he was unsure why. Though he tried to tell himself that he would care for any of his friends in this manner if they fell ill, he knew that wasn't entirely true. Then again, he also knew that he didn't have many friends. So what was it about Kaoru that made him hold her in such high esteem? He found that he couldn't be entirely sure.

"Kenshin?"

He had to admit, although he would never say it aloud, the husky tone of her sleep-laden voice made the pronunciation of his name entirely too delicious; shaking his head a bit he denied the shivers that skated down his spine. "Yes, Kaoru?"

"Kenshin... would you... could you, please..."

"What do you need?" He couldn't tell if she was hesitating because she was embarrassed or because it was hard for her to speak. He prayed it was the former.

"Would it be too much trouble for you to play the piano for me?" she asked, her voice just a shade higher than a whisper.

A soft smile appeared on Kenshin's face; she had been embarrassed, then, thank the heavens. "Of course, it would be my pleasure."

Leaving her bedroom door wide open, he took a seat in front of her very nice, extremely expensive piano. After briefly questioning her about where she bought it and how much it cost, although he felt slightly rude in asking, he realized that Tanaka-san had given her quite a deal, and his smile widened a bit. He had always held a certain fondness for the little old man.

"What would you like to hear?"

"Anything," Kaoru breathed. "Oh... anything."

This time Kenshin did shudder at the sound of her voice, but promptly ignored the feeling. Settling his fingers over the keys, he closed his eyes for a moment, then began to pick out a melody with his right hand. He followed suite with the left, simply improvising as he went; this was his favorite way to play. It felt so expressive to him to paint his own musical masterpieces, and then tear them to pieces and start anew.

He had long ago learned that he could play through almost anything, and that he especially loved to challenge the thunder that sometimes raged at him, but when he heard Kaoru's quiet sobs, he almost faltered. Despite the overwhelming urge to leap up from the piano and take her in his arms to offer her comfort, he played on, knowing that she would be mortified if she thought he could hear her. With a start, he realized that it was his music that made her cry.

'I can't take all the credit,' he rationalized. 'The piece is sad, yes, but there has to be something within her that it touches to wring such a response from her. I wonder...'

His fingers danced wildly across the keys, attempted half-heartedly to brighten the song for Kaoru's sake, but he found that while he could drag himself into a slightly lighter mood, his hands seemed to crash back into the minor keys as if they knew no other home. When his wrists began to ache dully, he stopped, noticing that her crying had ceased.

Kaoru was fast asleep, and while the rise and fall of her chest not quite natural, it seemed at least a little improved. The smile that arose at her state of relative comfort disappeared when Kenshin noticed the pale streaks that showed him where her tears had dropped so carelessly. As if resisting his own will, he traced a finger ever so lightly down her cheek, not surprised at how alike to silk her skin was. As he bent to pull her blankets more snugly around her body, he couldn't resist dropping a kiss like a whisper against her forehead. He sighed in relief when she stirred but didn't awaken. Something about this woman was driving him mad, and he wasn't sure that he didn't like it.

* * *

A/N: Holy "hola," it's been a while since I worked on this story. It feels good to get back to it, I shall admit. I had stopped progress on all fics to write "Haligh, Haligh, A Lie, Haligh" (yes, that was an entirely shameless plug, by the way), but now I'm back! I'm going to be busy, what with school starting for me on the 23rd. (Yay for only one more year!) However, I'm starting at a new school, the Fitton Center for the Creative Arts, so there's no telling how much work I'll have to actually do at home. Most likely not too much, since school is centered around visual and performing arts, so here's hoping. I'm a bit sad to be leaving AP English and AP European History behind at my old school, but I think this will be better for me, and it'll certainly help me with college. (w00t, art major) In other news, in case anyone actually cares, my band is going strong again after going through some turbulent times and huge problems. My horse and I kicked ass at the American Quarter Horse Regional Experience, and life at the moment seems pretty good. Oh! And I saw Coldplay in concert on Tuesday and they were AMAZING. So I'm going to go listen to Fiona Apple and chill out for a while, love you all! 

PS What's with this "no responding to the readers" thing? I got a petition, but my computer was like "RAURGH! YOU CAN'T SEND ME!" so I didn't do it. :shrug: I'm not sure exactly what the new rules are, but let's face it... I don't seem to be complying. Hm.


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